Poet's Paradise (Dawn of Era of Poems)

 You change times or times change you The brewery starts only after its first brew Oceans come from deserts, they start from dew It's good it's bad, happy & sad Laudable laughter with mourner's hat Walking, contemplating all that could be Unrelated worlds have too much to see

 I wonder how would I have fared had I not been that scared of everything and nothing all around of something surreal and even so sound Maybe If I hadn't cared I might have never been scared of lonelier folks passing by in the shade of night, no noise no sigh Perhaps it was me who dared to even know I was scared because its quiet in the abyss of dark knowing as someone who seldom saw spark Lurking in the nothingness are thoughts Ones not good, weird and all sorts and lots These have been me and no one's spared Truly, the knowledge is what keeps me scared

There are more ears than mouth yet years worth of words, keeps the world unaroused For its the actions that matter Its those deeds that scatter Unlike those hollow preachers words too much, empty creatures Then why would someone want all words? Never truly aware if that's okay or damn that hurts it is the time that moves those tides meanings change, swaying to all sides Never truly expressed if in language humans are fun, easy to boast easier to discourage So how do you say something that's pure? With essence of being and the truth to allure Not to seek glory, fame or shame In the end they're all the same Nothing worthy to be basked So, to answer your question which you never asked No, I Don't need ears for my happiness or grievances Just someone to share my silences

 I was told about things to worry times-a-passing, goals to hurry Somehow I don't want to be the hero of folklore wearing a mask, forcibly forlorn I want to be me The best that can be Laugh when I want fall on some slant Cry my eyes out Acknowledge me every doubt Define me wherever and however seizing to be alive, never Walk on my own gait celebrate worth, tackle hate Dream endlessly and still not fret There's a story to be told about me that I don't know yet

 It takes years to build a man worth the words Walking his own path irrespective of herds Is it good, is it bad? who's to say goes the man, on his own way Whatever it takes long hours short breaks breaks that ache from restlessness living is running to harness Towards the stress of being complete From ages and ages of duress dark day, darker the night who's to say the way is right Its the gait and the face The strait laced ace and respect from gates

 We tend to move when our impulses stay For that is a light, hence the way It's a road unknown to all but you loops are plenty but path a few A tunnel that ends and begins where running never stops and nobody wins A path you can choose but must fear For the green road needs some wear Somewhere around would temptations stay but the blood gushes where thorns you lay In haste or at ease sometime The fruit must be cared before ripe The journey chooses you and you the dream For we are weird, conscience our stream No dream is big or small It's you, your rise and your fall and a little muscle that makes you smile For every fruit and every mile